


Between the Pages of my Mind

by mandsangelfox



Series: Only Then Am I Human [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Character Study, Feels, Gen, Memories, Revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3826984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandsangelfox/pseuds/mandsangelfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His memories were but toys that were too delicate for his large fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Pages of my Mind

Every step taken felt loaded, weighted and burdened by the uncertainty of not knowing his next move, next target, next deep sleep. The name 'Bucky' uttered with such familiarity filled his ears, blurred the order and made it impossible to think beyond the hope burning behind those blue eyes. Eyes that stirred something in the Soldier that refused to lay dormant and obey ingrained commands that had for decades guided his hand, led his intent and delivered his form of justice. 

Misguided justice? 

No. 

His work had been a _gift_ to mankind, that's what he'd been told. He'd _shaped_ the century. 

It was also something he'd believed because there was little else to cling onto in between sleep and waking. He was a weapon, a soldier, the means to an end. Not a person and yet when the blonde had looked at him he'd felt something akin to humanity for the first time in what felt like a lifetime of hollow empty moments. Saving the man's life still made no sense, but he hadn't been able to let the other drown despite everything he'd ever been trained to do screaming at him that it was stupid - _dangerous_ \- and it would come back to haunt him.

Survival. That was the name of game. At all costs. A dead asset was no good to anyone, especially to those he served. Failure was unacceptable and the Winter Soldier never failed. Only this time he had. The blonde and his comrades had succeeded, bringing HYDRA to heel and leaving those associated with the "terrorist" organisation scrambling for higher ground like the "rats" they were. Not that this worried the Soldier as much as it should given that his entire world had shrunk inexplicably to the point where he was alone in the field with no exit strategy. Perhaps his mind was too busy turning over the exchange between himself and the one they called _Captain America_. More importantly the way the good Captain had looked at him, like an old friend long since gone and now resurrected into the present.

It made no sense.

His memories were but toys that were too delicate for his large fingers and each time he made a desperate grab for them in amongst the sleepless nights which passed since the fall they shattered into fragments, too small for him to gather and sometimes it felt as though he was grasping for sand. And it angered him, beyond all reason and all logic. Who was this blonde and what gave him the right to demand things of the Soldier that he couldn't give? This 'Bucky' was a figment, he wasn't real, he couldn't be. It wasn't possible, not when his own mind knew only Mission and Orders and Sleep. There was no person, only a blank slate that could be imprinted on, a tool just waiting for a reason to exist.

Sense dictated that he leave this city and never look back and yet his feet seemed cemented to the very ground beneath the thick treads unable to move. After a while he'd decided that there was no use arguing. Instead he slunk into shadow, covering up all distinguishable marks and carrying himself in such a way that it was easy for people to overlook him. It was maybe difficult to imagine given his metal arm, but he'd blended in before and now was no different, he could blend in again and figure out what to do next. 

Living rough wasn't difficult, no more difficult than a lot of his missions, and it allowed him to observe, to watch and listen. Soon he learned that the one called Captain America had survived their encounter and the rush of relief which filled his very being was confusing and frightening but also very irritating - why did he care? Something in him wondered if he was broken, if there was a defect in his programming, a virus perhaps? Emotions were an alien concept, especially as there was no place for emotions in his world, a world that had done just fine without them and he longed for that, longed for that familiar coldness that he now lacked. The blonde had stirred something up and now the Soldier was left to handle it as best he could which wasn't very well at all given that he could never remember having had to handle them before. He no longer had that safety net and every moment, including the ones he stole in sleep, were troubled: flashes of a past he couldn't reconcile with everything he'd been told. So troubled that one evening he'd woken to find his metal hand wrapped around the throat of the unfortunate soul that had been concerned enough to wake him. A stranger, their eyes wide with fear, their breathing short and sharp, and a flash of something caused the Soldier to let go, scrambling away and fleeing into the darkness which enveloped him like a second skin.

He needed answers to the riddles that rattled his mind, but he couldn't find them on his own, not when he didn't even know what his purpose was any longer. He was a wanted man that much he knew for certain. He had been HYDRA's weapon and the authorities were looking for him, but he wasn't leaving this place - he couldn't leave - not without knowing more about who this 'Bucky' was and what he meant to the blonde. The blonde that had put his own life at risk to save his own when he'd had every opportunity to leave him for dead. Was he something to somebody? Or was he exactly what he'd always been led to believe he was? It felt childish, this hope that there was more to all of this than just coincidence, but a rebellious part that he didn't even know existed decided to hell with caution: jump in with both feet and let the chips fall where they may.

This was exactly how he'd found himself at the Smithsonian, staring at the display of costumes which had accompanied the Howling Commandos and the infamous Steve Rogers, the Captain America, who by all rights should have died in the ice and yet hadn't. His story oddly familiar, the Soldier refused out of some sheer pigheadedness to allow himself to feel some sort of kinship with his enemy. Especially when that enemy had brought about the end to everything he'd ever known. And that man _was_ his enemy. 

It wasn't until he came across the display dedicated to the man known as James Buchanan Barnes that the Soldier stilled long enough to take in every detail, confusion furrowing his brow as his face and yet not his face was up there for him to see. It couldn't be, that man, he'd died. It said as much, he'd been the only member of the Howling Commandos to give his life in service to his country and to... Captain America. No, not Captain Rogers. Steve, Stevie, the boy from Brooklyn. He hadn't given his life in the pursuit of honour and glory, he'd given it for Steve, out of loyalty and friendship. Only that wasn't printed on any of the literature, but it was just something the Soldier felt within himself. 

So lost in his thoughts he didn't notice the small boy approaching slowly and carefully as if he were unsure if he was really seeing what was right there in front of him.

"Hey, you look like-"

The words jolted the Soldier back into the present and a quick panicked look met the curious gaze of the young boy who after getting a good look at the bearded man's face eyes widened that much further and he soon began to gesticulate wildly and excitedly. "You are! You're him! You're Bucky!"

And just like that the Winter Soldier was on his heel, moving as quickly as he could, to try and put as much distance between himself and the young boy who had by now garnered the attention of quite a large crowd. It wasn't until he was safely enveloped in shadow that the Soldier finally stopped, body sagging against the nearby wall until he finally crumpled down into a heap, fingers pushed beneath the cap which had previously hidden his hair, fingers twisted in the strands.

"...Bucky?" He croaked, the name felt... odd on his tongue and yet it also felt so right. It didn't answer any of the million questions he still had, but he was no longer plagued by the riddle and it was a start. A small one, but a start all the same. 

"I'm- I'm Bucky."


End file.
